


however long you want

by verysmall



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Food, M/M, fluff fluff fluff god fluf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 05:17:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9369686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verysmall/pseuds/verysmall
Summary: They





	1. Honey

**Author's Note:**

> one-word prompts from people on peach. almost not at all edited, which is ok with me, because each thing is like four words long

Sherlock is sitting in front of John's open laptop and eating raw honey with a fork. 

John stops in the doorway, squinting. "D'you want..." he starts, but then looks away and says, "alright," and goes to fetch a mug. 

"Mor'ng," says Sherlock. Thick, chewy squelches resound from the table as John pours his coffee. "Honey doesn't spoil. I'm right about that, aren't I? Yes, of course I am. I googled it." 

"Okay," says John as he sits, "not a promising opener." When he slides the jar over to his side of the table, Sherlock follows it with his fork, pursing his lips benignly. He scrapes up another helping while John inspects the label. And the expiry date. "Wow," says John. 

"It's like popcorn," explains Sherlock. "Better eating after it's been set out for a while." 

"This honey was in your life before I was." 

"Well it was high time I got my mouth on it, then, wasn't it?"


	2. Stars

"We ought to go somewhere," murmurs Sherlock from the window.

John looks up, but he can't see Sherlock's face past the curtain. "Anywhere in particular?"

"Oh, I don't know. The ocean, maybe. The Netherlands. Arizona."

John's chin is propped up in his hand, and his fingers are smothering the left half of his fond, fond smile. "Arizona? What for?"

"Doesn't have to be Arizona."

"What's in Arizona?"

"It's very flat," explains Sherlock.

That catches John a bit off-guard. He takes a moment, then says, "is it?"

"In a manner of speaking. There are flat bits."

"What do you want the flat bits for?"

"Or we could just go to the sea."

"Sherlock," says John.

Sherlock is silent. "Light pollution," he eventually says. "Buildings."

A curl of warmth drops open in John's chest. "Sky?"

"Have you ever allowed it to take up your entire field of vision? Have you had the opportunity?"

 _You want to go to Arizona to look at the sky_ , thinks John. God, he's in love. "Can't say so," he says. "But it sounds lovely."

"It's nauseating," says Sherlock. "You're prone to fall over, after a bit."

"Oh."

"But then, I've only done it without the service of an anchor," he adds in a rushed mumble.

John thinks on that. "We should go," he says, because never in his life has he been honored with a request more wonderful than _While I look at the sky, could you hold my hand?_


	3. Eyelashes

To make up for it, they stop in at the little Indian place John likes.

"Sort of...comforting, y'know," says John after a sip of his lassi. "Sort of like, it's, y'know, it's like when--y'know?"

"Mm-hm," says Sherlock. The case is over, but he's still not ordering for himself, because he put a clump of soil in his mouth earlier to get a feel for its pH, and some of it went down.

"S'yeah, it's," John continues, "it's just like time is...it's sort of _whooof_ , yeah?" He floats his hand in a swath over the table and leans back into his booth seat.

"Sorry," offers Sherlock again as John rests his eyes. "Next time let me know and you can kip with my coat."

John rolls his head a bit to either side. "Mmno. Don't you..."

"Two nights is too many."

"No, I've gone for longer," says John, eyes still closed. The way the place is lit, his eyelashes spray golden against the shadow of his face.


End file.
